Silver Laced Betta
by ValiumCocktail
Summary: [...]"You will not forget, and you will not choose iron over fire. I will be a queen, and I will sire a king for this throne, and you, my brother, will pay me tribute as you owe me for holding this up in your place." [...]
1. The voice of the people is god's voice

_Oh well_ , she thought, staring at the tabloid left on her bedside stand with the coffee, _my life is over_.

She was sure it'd been left there on purpose by her parents in a passive-agressive way. It was what Egeo always did, leave clues on the way of how disappointed he was with her. The more she grew, and the closer she became of being an adult, the more he seemed unhappy with everything she chose to do. But it wasn't a problem! She was happy in her relationship with the prince, and he seemed to like her the same much she liked him. Her parents made faces and tried to convince her to break up with him in the moment she told them about it. It wasn't something of a proper lady, they said, to fool around with some guy being an eligible candidate to a Queenstrial. "But it's the crown prince himself", she argued. "Even worse", they replied. He would treat her as expendable, and right before the trials? Her image would be the one of some sort of gold digger, meaning to steal the prince before others should have a chance.

Parthenope decided not to think about it, grabbing the wing of her coffee mug. She was happy the way she was, and no sensationalist article about how she had been caught having ice cream with Callum could change that. She took a sip of the hot sugary liquid, smiling like a fool. She was going to hear so much about it from her parents for having been seen in her little romance with the prince... She thought it'd be worthy to read the article. Surely she would see a picture quickly snapped from a hidden corner by some underpaid paparazzi.

However, it wasn't the only one she saw, and the shock made her drop the mug on her covers — coffee was spilt all over the bed and she burned herself on the process. Incredulous, she eyed hatefully her picture beside Callum in a date, both smiling and gazing at each other lovingly. And right beside it, a picture of him and no one less than Esme Titanos, the insipid cow that was the queen's niece. She gave him the same look Parthenope herself dedicated to the prince, and by the angle, she couldn't see his, but he had his arm around her protectively, in a way that no friend or family would. She read and read again the extense article with her eyes burning in rage, so much she almost couldn't feel her skin damaged by the coffee. _The amibitious Parthenope Osanos,_ it said. _Trying to shotgun wed our dear prince?_ _Meaning_ _to_ _seduce him for evaluating her chances on the Queenstrial as that non-existent?_ And a million other pernicious and cruel trinkets. They even accused her of wanting to ruin the beautiful relationship between Callum and Esme.

Furious, she screamed. Not any scream, a roar, where she put all her hurt, all the betrayal she felt about it. She was betting on the imbecile snake that was Esme having paid them to write and maculate her image and extoll her own.

Huffing, the low snarl stuck on her throat, she kicked away the covers and along with it the mug, that fell and broke into a hundred pieces on the floor. Two guards and a maid showed up on the door, worried about the scream of the young lady. Parthenope threw the magazine at the face of the one that standed closer to her, and marched to the bathroom.

"Clean up this mess, and it better be all ready when I return if you all still desire to have a head over your shoulders." And slammed the door on their faces.

{123}

Alone on the Small Saloon of the Astraea palace, Esme Titanos savoured her victory. She had in hand a delicate golden porcelain cup half full with hibiscus tea, and sipped it absentmindedly, between bites of glazed biscuits. The magazine was open before her, being held and pages turned by a red maid, and by that hour the main article should be the subject of the news and futility shows she so adored. Soon, it would be the gossip of the kingdom, how the cruel and ambitious Parthenope tried to steal poor Esme's love. Served her right. Nobody told that disgusting little whore to try and steal what was rightfully hers. Callum had been born to be hers, in the same way the ridiculous Eirian had been born to be a joke on the name of the royal family.

She bit a purple glazed biscuit delicately, holding it between her index and her thumb carefully. _Parthie deserved the bad publicity_ , she told herself vigorously. Anyone that stepped into her way deserved so.

Esme laughed once more in triumph. The voice of the people is the voice of god, they said, and the voice of the people screamed " _Parthenope is a treacherous slut_ ".

{123}

The dark haired boy eyed his younger sister with contempt. In that moment, he hated her for having brought the subject to the table. The little traitor just savoured her fruit salad with a servile and innocent air, as if she hadn't just sealed his fate for the next six months at least.

Emmeline stared at her son with disappointment stamped on her face. She raved about how he needed to think of the consequences of his actions, and how the reputation of two noble born girls was now tainted for his incapacity of controlling himself. Callum didn't pay her any mind whatsoever. He only didn't roll his eyes for a matter of image and trying to diminish his sentence, per se.

The king, Maximus Samos in all of his morningly mentally undone glory, observed the exchange, with the same or less interest than his son. He thought it was no big deal that the prince was showing up accompanied by girls, whomsoever they were. But if his wife needed to make a problem out of it, he would pay that no mind.

Leonard was contained in his own carapace. He thought it was for the good his cousin to be reprimanded, Callum was an idiot with no match that needed to be put in his place. Not that the queen's groundings and penitences would be of any good. He never learned, and both she and the princess were imbeciles for thinking otherwise. But he would savour his restrictions. After all, the more they caged the lion, the more it'd become uncontrollable, untill its eventual explosion would become inevitable, wich would be very unhappy for the rest of the Samos. But not him.


	2. Of the matters of putting forth a queen

If you were an outsider, and looking from a distance, you'd think Kurt was marking the read lines of an important article about economy that he read on Norta's main newspaper, with a serious and focused semblance. But, since Camille had a priviledged view from the chair beside him, she could see her brother drawing a devil face over Esme Titanos'. A few rotten teeth... The fact that almost no one in the court liked her was almost comedic.

"What has this baboon done now?" she raised a perfectly drawn eyebrow at the vandalism. She could vaguely see the image of their cousin Parthenope. Whatever it was that Esme had caught her doing, it'd beed stupid of hers to leave exposed, she concluded.

"The evil Parthenope is trying to steal the love of Norta's sweetheart." Recited dramatically Kurt, with his best — or worse — ridiculous imitation of a futile gossip show girl. "You'd think prople wouldn't fall for Titanos' circus, but unhappily, we're surrounded by idiots, Cami."

Camille sipped on the black coffee in her china with an expression that said "don't even tell me about it", and it seemed the cue for the other cousin to show up, completely lacking of elegance, respect or decorum for the almost mandatory silence in wich the other Calore started the day.

Ignacia, the fifteen year old daughter of their uncle, was a girl whose etiquette lessons had been nearly a waste regarding her social behavior. She arrived running in the "small" dining room reserved for the family breakfast, almost tripped on a chair, threw two magazines on the table and sat in front of the twins. Dante, sitting by the head of the table as usual, only sighed his bother and kept eating, while Sulpicia, siting on his right and beside their children, wore an expression that spoke of the deepest disrelishment.

"Did you all see it? Parthie is a backstabber!" The girl huffed and fell heavily upon her chair, grumpy and oblivious to the disapproval coming from the rest of the family. "After all she and Esme went through together!"

The twins only exchanged a look that said " _there is one of the afamed idiots_ ".

"I will take Ignacia's interruption as an opportunity to regard a subject we shall discuss as a family." Dante inhaled and tidied up, in a way that he seemed done with it before he started. "The Q-..."

"OH, YES, THE QUEENSTRIAL! UNCLE, I AM SO EXCITED, IT WILL ALL BE PERFECT!" Ignacia clapped her hands with a smile. Dante sighed again.

"Ignacia, will you let me finish before assuming for yourself what I intendo to regard?" His tone was harsh and incisive, and she stopped her babbling. "House Calore will partake in the Queenstrial." His tone was decisive and the younger girl couldn't contain an excited squeal. "But it will partake with Camille and not Ignacia. Heath and I have talked about it on end, and he considers the event too dangerous to you."

The twins looked at each other, not knowing what to say. Camille never had the intent to participate, even if the honor weighed on her back. She preferred to put off the incumbency of the conspiracies to Kurt's daughters, instead of taking it upon herself. Ignacia was about to protest, but contained herself. If it was her father's orders there was nothing she could do besides putting aside her infantile delusions of becoming royalty.

"You signed me up without my knowledge." The older girl mulled the words in her mouth as she said them. Her glare carried the resent of many past events. It wasn't the first time Dante tried to control her future. "You can't want to speak of 'discussing as a family' when you have already decided it all by yourself."

Kurt squeezed her hand, made fist under the table. Besides the affection, it was a gesture that begged her to keep control.

"What is there to discuss in the end?" He disregarded the protest with a shrug and a harsh glare at his daughter. "Iolanthe hasn't won, if she even tried to, my aunts haven't either. Does it fit me now to remember you it is more than a matter of honor to put forth a Calore queen? Or have we forgotten about the coup d'etat?"

"The matter here isn't our memory but your decision without Camille's consent." Kurt replied, in the same harsh tone he had used with Ignacia, that, at that point, played with the food on her plate, wishing to be miles away from the front of the war being held between the lord and his offspring.

"It doesn't matter. It is done." Sulpicia announced, as if the voice of the final tie breaker. Dante went back to his plate, triumphant, and both twins got up, Camille first, with a "I lost my appetite" murmur, and then Kurt, staring at their parents in a way that screamed way more than " _we're up to here with your bullshit_ ".


	3. Selfish as an immortal

The smoke swirled in delicate spirals in the air above them. Floated from Camille's half open lips as if it had a life of its own. The hand that had the cigarette holder was the same one that carried the metal bracelet with the spark generating mechanism. Even nude, that was the only thing she would never remove. It hovered as an ominous shadow between her and Thomas — she trusted none, not even him.

He didn't use his habilities, not even a little. He didn't like to know her answers before she gave them. Made the whole thing pointless. He caressed her face slowly, both vaguely covered by the egyptian cotton sheets. When she wasn't looking at him, the sort of analysis she gave everything else was cold, he noticed.

She made it clear that whatever happened between them was born and died between those walls. But even though it was clear, it never ceased to hurt her once it was needed to refuse him or deny an appeal. He never asked much of her, never more than what she could give. Worse, he was willing to lose her if it was part of her plans. If Camille wanted to go, she was free to,and he wouldn't stop her even if it was ripping him apart.

"You know I will need to go soon, right?" She didn't look at him, and let out more smoke, her voice low.

"Stay longer." He furrowed his eyebrows and sighed. "Stay the night. No one would mind."

"I would mind." She closed her eyes and turned to the man beside her before she opened them again. "Would you want a scandal? May the stupidity of others serve me as an example." _And so, so close to the trials..._ Completed her brain.

"Don't sign up for it. Hell, we should be in a marriage contract, and you shouldn't have to worry about impressing the king and the queen, nor with marrying a dumbfounded idiot we all despise." He sighed, but the affirmation wasn't a request. Thomas wouldn't be cruel as to ask that from her. He knew Camille's burden almost like his own, but not really.

"The honor is a cold and selfish lover, Lord Eagrie." She once again stared at a lost point in the horizon. _May I never forget its weight,_ she thought.

{123}

He didn't let go of the girl's waist when breaking the kiss. Away from the palace, on the open landscape, there were no cameras needing to be deflected. The horses seemed happy to be released to eat the grass on that place.

Eirian smiled innocently and started to kiss him again. They had no time together. They never did. The palace, full of eyes, ears, cameras, put itself as an obstacle in their relationship. She wouldn't mind making it clear to the world that he belonged to her as she belonged to him, but it was never this simple with Kurt. She had accepted that, even though insuring in it. She wanted something public, a contract, an engagement in black and red, announced at its loudest for the world to listen. But he wouldn't let her. Bitterly, he insisted in his points. It would affect his sister's chances — the most important of them —, and, hell, the king was her father — almost as important. She couldn't see why it was a problem, he was almost her father's apprentice — position that, in the moment the Calore accepted, Callum saw himself free to despise. He saw the problem in that exactly. How to now be accused of wanting to put a crown on his head when her father had one upon his own?

"We'll have to get back soon." He laid his forehead against hers, drawing anxious circles on her back with his thumbs. He looked into her eyes, and she was able to see where the affection ended and started the apprehension, caused by the first factor. It hurt in her, and it hurt in him too.

"Do we really have to? No one will mind if we take more twenty minutes... Or three hours..." She laughed low and tightened her arms around him, her head laid on his chest

"I would notice, Eirian." He took the opportunity to hug her tighter as well, as both sat on the grass. "May your brother be the example, it's not fit for us to be in another scandal."

"You and your honor." She muttered, huffing.

"Cold and selfish as only an immortal ought to be." He answered as he got up, still holding her against him.

{123}

He stared at the dark haired girl, stupidified for a moment. At the same time he wanted her for himself and he wanted to destroy her. Both urges were conflictant. He couldn't decide wich of them was stronger.

She treated his confusion and silence with frivolity. If he had no idea what to do, that was his own problem. Alexis never had said to love him. She only went with the flow. Fed his ideas of greatness. He, orphaned, without a higher guide, gave in to the stimulus. The idea had always been there, screaming, and he always had listened. She only joined her voice to his inner one.

"Is there anything the matter, Lord Samos?" She blinked innocently. He seemed to hesitate and choke on his words before he answered.

"No. I was only thinking."

"And what does my lord think of?" Her tone kept its innocence, even though her will at times was to spread the venom she hid inside.

"I think of a queen." Leonard smiled, seeming to have found a solution to his conflict.

"Do you think of her majesty? Or perhaps on the late, may the gods bless her, queen Alyssa?"

He seemed to chew on his words yet. Didn't want to admit them or say them out loud. He meant to strangle the other for a moment, the same voice that talked of royalty delusions was the commander. Strangle her, it said. Watch her suffocate in your hands and her face lose all color, her hands scratch and her feet kick, fighting for air. Watch life leave he body, the only thing in the way of your greatness. But he preferred to push the voice aside, and lifted her chin, still with the screams on his ears, but didn't strangle her. Kissed her, instead.

"I think of a Haven queen beside a magnetron king." He didn't specify wich king. It wasn't needed. At the end of all that game, he intended to be the only magnetron eligible for the position.


	4. Of function and defeat

She faced the mirror and let out a frustrated grunt. She was ready to start another beautiful day, with all the usual bullshit she told herself every single day as she woke up, but that morning in specific she was feeling specially... Like something inhabiting a body. _Y'know the feel,_ she thought, _I just work here_.

She took the white powder from the drawer on the dressing table, and started to cover her face with it. She'd seen that on a book about the old world and found it formidable. It became her main mask. Only the lower lip painted black. The lines in her your lids made her seem more ethereal. Like the predator she didn't feel. The tunic she'd chosen for that day was a dark green adorned with golden, the colors of her house. She felt like rolling her eyes at that.

She showed no reaction when Ivayne basically broke into her room. She was used to her sister doing that. And in that morning, as she felt specially opaque, Ivayne was radiant.

"Have you heard it, have you?" She basically jumped all over her bed.

"What should I hear about?" She resumed painting her face.

"Oh, the Queenstrial, Friedrich! Father says I'm expected to participate! We'll be all in the Hall, along with all the other people. It's going to be the social event of the generation." She covered her mouth and giggled.

The Queenstrial. That insipid event in wich all the daughters of the able houses should show off in an arena for the king and queen. In that moment she almost thanked the luck of not needing to be a part of it. She made the last line on her face and turned dramatically to her sister.

"Do you really mean to dispose yourself as an object for no one less than Callum Samos? The inconsequential prince?"

"Fried, what girl wouldn't want to become queen? For ambition, love, or status? Imagine how much you could do being the queen's brother!" She took a feline stand. She was a little bit scared for Ivayne's contestants. Her sister would fight with teeth and claws for the chance.

 _I, I don't want to be queen,_ Fried thought to herself. _Why'd I want to get as a reward for_ _all my effort and excellence an acefalous husband?_

"Seamus aspires the defeat of Minerva Merandus." Ivayne smiled. "He intends to take the engagement papers from his pocket the moment it's announced she's not the victor. Or so it seems. I don't understand why such a fuss. Minerva isn't all that. She doesn't have half of Roslyn's beauty.

"Roslyn's beauty comes along with foolishness and useless poison, and he knows so." _Lucky him,_ she thought. _At least Minerva is a wise woman._

"Don't be ridiculous, brother. Why would she need but beauty and power? Who's to run the house is he, she only needs to look pretty in public." She threw her hair over her shoulder, ignoring the argument.

 _Oh, gods,_ she thought to herself. _If that's whay Ivayne thinks it's like to be a queen, then it's best fit she doesn't win._

{123}

Kallai Gliacon wasn't a merciful man. The staff was scared of him with reaskn, any excuse given was enough for execution. Working on the Greatwoods palace was like having a sword above one's head. For him, reds were infinitely replaceable, and if they weren't behaving like he wanted, they shouldn't be allowed to disappoint no one else. " _It's how it works in this world_ ", he said.

Elisa ate her lunch in silence. Their parents weren't there again, but it was nothing new under the sun. Tension could be cut with a knife. It was always like that when there was no one around to control Kallai. She knew that somewhere in the palace, her brother's five favorites also ate, privileged over the rest of the staff and always on the tightrope. He always got tired of them and replaced them as soon as they bored him. No one cared, they were reds, made to serve, and would serve in the way he saw fit. But they were his. For the time their servitude lasted, they were his. It was one of the reasons for her apprehension. For, for a few weeks, she'd been stealing the favorite. Not just one of them. The favorite.

"How are we today? Excited about the idea of the Queenstrial, I'm inclined to think." He took a sip from his glass, waiting for obediend and well trained answers.

"Surely, brother." Catrice answered.

"As I never were." Elisa swallowed. "With your permission, I'm excusing myself to run my errands."

"Granted." He shot her an icy glare, that she feared was the one of someone that new more than she wished him to.

She got up graciously, and walked without a flaw through the hallways. Scared of him or not, she was still a Gliacon, and needed to be the lady she had been so painfully trained to be.

Her duties consisted of small administration tasks. She had to learn to be useful. She usually did that from her own office, a room with windows from the floor to the roof, with good lighting and comfortable.

Charlotte, better known as Lotte within the household, was a short and curvy girl, olive skin, very dark hair, eyes just as dark. The favorite. Her brother's possessivity over her went to astounding levels. No one touched Lotte, and from a time on, no one spoke but the bare minimum to Lotte. And Lotte happened to be her personal maid. Kallai couldn't do anything if Elisa was seen talking to her or something. But she couldn't imagine what would he do if he found out about them. Maybe the unthinkable.

The woman brought her the tea she always drank after meals. Green, no sugar. Elisa got up, as if pretending to look for a book. She cared for the cameras to have an icy layer over the lenses. Only then she took her hand in hers and kissed her fingers, her gaze melancholic. Lotte caressed her face, her hair. Kissed her forehead, and then her lips. It lasted only for a moment. She needed to go.

And she went, with heavy eyes. After all, that was how the world worked, and she belonged to Kallai.


	5. Time runs, tic toc

He stared at her from across the table. She stared back.

"Do I really need to play in black and silver?" Camille made a face. Kurt limited himself to smiling apologetically.

"I'm sorry, Cam. You played in black and red the last time." He made a move for her to start. The silver pawns had the white piece "advantage", always.

They played only for the pass-time. None beat the other, it was always like that. Sometimes Camille said it was a bad omen for them, clearly sarcastic — even if one of them was on the verge of being checkmated, the other would always go for the tie, after all, even though they were Samos pieces against Calore, it was above everything Kurt against Camille, and they refused to be in that position. Always for te balance.

"The king is going upriver." He announced. "He's not boarding now, but the Hall of the Sun has received the preparing orders."

"Time runs." She poked her lower lip with a silver horse, measuring her play.

"Tic, toc." He tapped a nail to the table absentmindedly.

"And it always escapes."

"Always for the same place."

The poem was like an ominous prediction. Sulpicia repeated it to Dante when he doubted her. They repeated jointly when something put itself to move. It was a threat and a fear.

"I never wanted to be queen, Kurt." She supported her face on her hands, watching the board.

"I know." For a moment, he wished everything was switched. Had Eirian been the prince instead and he the Calore candidate, much of that would be solved. But he supposed it wasn't good to wonder. What they had in mind demanded a certain detachment from Camille's behalf. "We need two key pieces for that."

"Proceed." She gave away a pawn to "death". He knocked that one with one of his own.

"A bishop." He unconsciously copied her position, also supporting his head on his hands. "Only advances sideways." She smiled, knowing who was he talking about.

"And the other, dear brother?"

He didn't answer, only stared deep onto her eyes, in a very serious manner, and moved a single piece across the board precisely to knock another piece directly to her lap. He didn't let go of the piece in his hand.

Camille picked up the king from her lap with a frown. That ridiculous, imbecile, costy, silver king. He would certainly look prettier with ten stabs pouring equally silver blood out of his wounds. Kurt still stared at her. The piece he hadn't let go of was sculpted in bright, polished, beautiful marble. Black and red marble. The Calore queen.

She bit her lip. It was the first time he had knocked her king. But she understood they symbolism. Their so-imbecile king needed access, chance, opportunity, and most importantly, impunity, so that his death went well.

They stayed silent, staring at each other. They were scared, and reasonably. And slip would take both to the Bowl of Bones. If they agreed to it — and they did, in a solemn manner only the twins knew to —, they needed to be extremely careful. The making of kings was something oh-so-sensible.

Delicately, he pulled the obsidian and silver king off her fingers and replaced it with the marble queen. He cosed her hand around the piece carefully. The message was clear.

 _We need the Calore queen_.

{123}

In another part of West Archeon, a young maiden shoots knives on a target. This target would be like any regular archery target. White, with black circles, a red middle.

Alone, in a bad mood, nursing old angers, enmities, wounds, the maiden shoots knives at her target, locked in her messy, full of papers and books all around, and weapons — enough to make the place a mined ground — messy study, the maiden shoots knives at her target.

If you can call her a maiden, that is. That title was stripped off her forcefully, and she resents it. But who could blame her? Rumors were terrible. Not even silvers swallowed the kind of cruelty that came from him.

Alone in her study, Stachys Tyros shoots knives at her target. They all hit the spot, always. And in the center, is the much stabbed at, smiling image of Leonard Samos.

 _You'll pay me up every last bit, Samos_.Thinks the maiden, mulling over memories that aren't no more.


	6. Unsolemn Indisposition

The king's retreat to the Hall of the Sun was announced in the most carefree part of the news. It was on a cloud covered morning, with clear but weak light seeping through them. For the peasantry, maybe less for the burgeoisie, that was an expected annual event and bore no surprise. For the other interested parts, the notification in such an unsolemn way awoke a fuss. Everything finally was in movement. That's the way it should be, really.

Kurt went before. The Calore would go in the following week, pleasantly late, but early enough not to lose any event. But he was going with the royal family. His right hand status granted him that. Not that he didn't suspect Eirian's involvement on that decision. Minerva Merandus wasn't there to keep her company, and he supposed his "vaguely familiar presence" on the ship was the closest to that she could extract from her father. The tradition was still a thing, so each family went in their own ship.

Callum was "indisposed" that day. Indisposed meant he was either hangover or drunk in the present moment, in the lower deck, enclosed in a private room. Nobody wanted to discuss the matter.

He, on the other hand, was sitting on the panoramic deck, exchanging messages with Camille on a mobile device. Most answerswere memes. He dared not to be the one to start an interaction with the princess. Even if it was expected that they talked, everything had its limit.

"I wonder what goes through your head." The queen had beat her daughter to it. He faced the older woman, no bigger changes in his neutral expression, nor very sure it was something he should answer to.

"If your majesty wish to know, do not hesitate to ask." He said, finally, and turned his gaze back to the outside of the ship.

"You wouldn't tell me, Kurtis." She said, and put a hand foward to stop him before he replied. "Don't deny it. If you did tell me what you think of I would be worried with your hability within the court."

"Those in high position should not expose that wich is not adequate. My futile troubles wouldn't be proper to tell your majesty." He said, calm, not revealing wichever he was actually feeling. "As I'm sure your grace knows."

"Oh, we always do." She answered, and left his side, without another word or glare. Cold interactions were so common in the palace he was use to it, but that specific silence spoke of more than just knowing about propriety.

{123}

"I WON'T BE QUEEN." Raged Minerva, behind the door. Sakina had her ear glued on it, and, even though her sister spoke loud, she heard but a fraction of it, due to the sound isolation. She could only guess what her father replied, but it wasn't hard. "I'M NOT A FAVORITE, AND YOU KNOW FULL WELL I CANNOT WIN OVER THE SPECTACLES OF THOSE MORE POWERFUL THAN I. REFRAIN FROM CAUSING ME MORE PAIN THAN MY FAILLURE ALREADY DOES."

Zach went by, and he needed not say a word, altough she was sure she wasn't imagining the cautionary ruid he made.

"Alright, alright, I get it, eavesdropping is impolite." She said, inside his head, with an eye roll.

Sakina couldn't see why she wouldn't be a favorite. She herself had little to no chance of winning the dispute for the crown, but Minerva was the princess' best friend. If anyone had chances, it certainly should be her.

She straightened up and went after her brother, that headed for the superior deck. While the king had parted in the early morning, the Merandus had boarded at noon, they'd arrive about midnight. In the moment, it was already around seven, and the sun was about to set. She took advantage of the lack of supervision to serve herself of the available champagne. She liked the drink, but no one allowed her to drink frequently — reasonably.

"Why doesn't Minerva have a chance?" She asked, inside his head, sipping her glass.

"Because she saw the competition and has the notion of her skill with her power. While she should impress with mind control, it's hard. For that, she would need to take control of half the arena at least, and that, wich is not within her hability, could kill a whisperer without that strength."

"And how isn't she a favorite? She's always strolling around with the princess!"

"You fool yourself if you think that grants you favoritism, Sakina." He shook his head. "Minerva knows she's not in it to win. The favorites are the Titanos, the Calore, the Gliacon, maybe Osanos, Tyros and Arven."

"She still could win! I still could win!" She lifted her chin in stubbornness. Zach smiled and took the glass from her fingers with a disappointed look.

"Little sister, you are also a fool to believe Minerva hasn't found yet a better deal than to fail and return empty handed." And smiled, without a clue of what he truly meant.


	7. Heavy is the crown

Nobody could say the Calore didn't have a flare for the dramatic. Dante had programmed the trip so that their arrival would happen in the middle of the day, so that all other silver nobles present were forced to come greet them. Even if few, all those who were most important were already there. Merandus, Titanos, Tyros, amidst others. They, as always, were the last to arrive between those who were closer to the crown. In the time of a week after their arrival, the rest would begin to come. Traditionally the Gliacon were the true last to arrive, seeing as they preferred the icy mountains of Greatwoods.

For all the duration of the trip, Ignacia spent picking the outfit for her arrival, wich spared Camille of her childish blabbering. She knew wearing colors that not hers would be a danger, therefore, she decided, with a vague mental note, for a dress in silver that reflected light. She needed not elaborate choices. Camille knew what she wanted and where she headed.

Now, when their shiny ship reached to Summerton, the interior of it was completely silent. Only herself, Dante, and Sulpicia were on the main deck, the secondary branches of the family gathered on the rest on the boat. He was in his severe silence, facing the river. She saw in his eyesthe same expression Kurt had, but hesitatingly, for she thought she was no near to forgiving her father for forcing her hand on fate. Sulpicia was setting on its final details her simple, but sewn with laces of white gold, silver and jewels kokoshnik. Nobody much understood her preferrance for that kind of ornament over a tiara or diadem considered "normal".

Camille had set for her hair put in place by golden pins. Nothing too ostentatious for her head. But Sulpicia had other ideas.

"No, this won't do." She shook her head, serious. The girl asked herself if she'd done something wrong.

When she tidied up to ask what she referred to, she saw her reach for something left over a counter, that she assumed to be a chest of sorts at first. Square, strong, Sulpicia put it over the nearest table, and Camille saw it was too covered in satin inside.

"I saved this for over twenty years. I could wear it if I wanted to. The Calore jewels are at my disposal." And paused before she opened the box fully, her hand hovering over it. She smiled, in a was it made her daughter imagine what her mother was up to, and searched for the same smile through her memory, to no avail. "But this one doesn't fit me to the head. This is for a Calore. It's ancient, from way before the world changed. Its real name is lost, but as it's labeled, how we call it now, is the tiara of Alix. If Alix was someone or somewhere, we don't know. It's yours. You'll wear it." And opened, so, the box.

It was a piece of metal and diamond, shiny and almost like a solid strand. The dark haired girl swallowed, and accepted the ornament, carefully put over her elaborate hairdo, and with its own weight. _Get used to it,_ she thought. _That's the lightest weight you'll have to carry so on._

{123}

Minerva could see clearly the annoyance and disapproval in the crown prince's face. He didn't want to be there. _Spoiled brat,_ she thought. _None of us wants to be here that much either,_ _but we're here anyways._

The covered dock was acclimated, so, beside the whipping light that came from outside, and penetrated through the walls of the Hall, they were all comfortable. There was between the older ones a moment of truce. They were in competition, but knew how to hide the tense air, that was all over the girls that would partake in the Queenstrial; and those were less skilled in hiding.

Esme Titanos was put meticulously close to the queen, and behind her, the lord her father and the rest of her kin. Close to her as well, was Callum, taht didn't bother to pretend he was neutral about all that. The princess was between the king and the queen, and beside the king, Kurt Calore. Over him and the princess there was tension as well, but, if the king noticed, he said nothing about it. Kurt was in position, calm and still like a statue, and equally beautiful, she thought. If the focus there wasn't to cling with claws and teeth to the crown, there would certainly be a small hoard of girls giggling around him. Maybe he should be grateful for havr the acefalous prince to keep his freedom in check. His expression said too little, but the gleam in his eyes betrayed the rest. He was happy to see his sister again.

She herself had no connection that strong to her family. She could barely wait until she got married and left their picture. Why love parents who saw her as a faillure? Maybe she could tolerate her siblings, but House Merandus had no secrets, more for a lack of option than any other reason. She had a vague notion of how many and wich silvers had gone upstream that year with knives hidden in the drapes of their clothes and blood roaring loud on their ears. And she didn't give a shit, she tought to herself, with a smile. They could kill each other for the throne or other futilities whatsoever, she didn't care. As long as her and her own weren't affected, they could make blood run like the water on rivers, and she wouldn't bat an eyelash.

The Calore ship finally came to view, further ahead. Se almost felt the jolt of the gossiping. Even Kurt-the-statue breathed in deeper.

It took long to get to the dock. Less than it would ever be enough for the other competitors. When it did stop, it was tied to the dock, and even then it took some long for the door to be opened. The sun had moved, now over the ship rather than the nobles. It was almost a relief amongst torments.

Dante Calore was the first to get out, severe and flawless. He greeted the king and queen, directed a few words to his son, and only then he directed himself for the other house patriarchs and matriarchs. Sulpicia Arvsn didn't difer much from him on that. Her piercing glare traveled across the room, and let nothing ascape her. Her ornament seemed enlightened, the mass of red hair around her like a halo. She fulfilled her courtesy duties, and kissed the queen in both cheeks. Before she followed Dante's path, she hugged Kurt strong, and told him something in a low voice, with a smile.

After both were out, came the third Calore. The competitors held their breath for a long moment, and maybe the rest of their clans had done the same.

Camille, in her dress of sewn silver and her tiara, was blinding. The sun hit directly over her, and reflected on the water, on the dress, on the tiara, broke in a million shards that returned to shine on the other elements. She stayed still for a moment that seemed too long, but had only lasted a few seconds. She smiled like someone who had all attention upon herself — and she did — and thought that it was no less than what she deserved. For a moment too, Minerva hated her. She was sure the others would feel more than just a surge of anger, though. She could almost hear their hearts crack and shatter on the background, on the heavy silence Camille had imposed. Because none of them could ever arrive in that manner ever again. There was only one chance of arriving as if they'd already won, and she'd just done it.

As if they had rehearsed it, — she knew they hadn't, but that didn't make it less synced — Kurt walked over to the edge and held out his hand to help her down the short stairs, and then, in the most elegant way possible, guided her, her hand still in his, to greet the king and queen, put herself available to serve the princess, and present herself to the prince. Not even he, that didn't want to be there, had been able to ignore her.

They put themselves after their parents — oh, they actually did look like a prince and princess should —, and after the other members of the House had come out, the king took his queen by the hand. The spectacle was over and Camille had made an absurd number of enemies in the short time frame of thirty seconds, for most of them were well aware they were no match for the burner of House Calore.


	8. Steel and torment

How she loathed him.

Parthenope swirled a strand of the perfectly put hair on her finger, a dreamy expression to hide her disgust. She couldn't blame her cousin for making use of all possible artifices available to her to make the biggest impression she could. It was a competition, and she wanted the crown for politic reasons, in contrast to Parthenope's purely selfish ones.

Above all, she hated Esme. For being part of the queen's family, she ate alongside her, the king, the princes, and the rest on the elevated table. Banquets were abundant within the Hall. They weren't there for more than a week, but it was like a horrendous parade of events, each as frivolous and equally important as the other. The favorites strutted around, and, even though as an Osanos Parthenope would usually be a favorite, thanks to Norta's sweetheart, she was relegated to an "if".

She knew that, above anyone else, the one to have the least of a say on the royal marriage would be the prince. That comforted her. She didn't know what to think of him anymore; passion had calmed into anger. If she wanted to be queen, it no longer was for love. Pure spite.

The Osanos were put in the same table as the Calore. She wasn't complaining. Her mother was IolantheCalore, after all, and she was reasonably good with her cousins. They always talked between each other in codes, in glares, in certain specific movements. It was often like they were a sole person cut in two. She wondered what it was like. Arnav was several years younger than her and even though he was her brother, of course it would never be the same. Seriously. They'd even learnt a dead tongue to speak to each other. How did they call it? Latin? Something like that.

She asked herself how would it work that year. Gossip for sure. Several affairs. Their generation was in the afamed "age to marry". She also hated that term. But she thought it was fun the way Kurt and Bel Viper were avoiding each other. There was a rumor or two about them having had something, and she credited them completely. She'd seen them sometimes, leaving parties on the past summer, in moments wich both had been less careful and at least a bit drunk. She knew her cousin and knew full well what he was off to do with the Viper heir, that was much more famous for his indecencies.

"Parthie, break us a tie." Kurt turned to her, that was suddenly waken from her daydream. " The much beloved Esme would be better attributed to the cold mountains of Greatwoods... Or the Choke?" He smiled sweetly, if not the words, she would assume he spoke of things equally adorable. Parthenopeheld back a laugh.

"I trust her beauty would be an ice breaker on the Choke." And hid her grin with her hand. Camille looked triumphant, he grinned too.

It was the best idea of whoever it was, to put both houses on the same table, she thought sarcastically. Camille, like a sun on the environment, and she, associated. It guaranteed she was noted too, she was still powerful, from an extremely rich house, and still had a prominent place inside the court. She would not be ignored. Not even for gossip about indecencies.

On that point, the "event" was meeting its end. Why every dinner had to be an event, she didn't know. For better that was the company, she felt unwilling to stand that thing for another moment. She'd eaten — little, she wasn't hungry — and, thank you, but she wanted to retreat for the night. Training was heavier than usual, she claimed. Arnav, not so unwilling for he saw nothing interesting in banquets, was designated to accompany her to her room. She said her goodbyes with smiles and courtesies, but didn't miss the enigmatic stare of the twins upon her.

While she retreated early, other stares summed to theirs. Minerva, Stachys,Esme. Like vultures waiting for the weak to die to have a rich meal and a safer sleep.

"Why do they look at you?" Her brother asked, when they were already on the hallway.

"They hate me." She spat. "They want what I had."

"At least they don't want your head." He smiled grimly. "But they do want lady Camille's. She gloats over them"

She couldn't deny it. They'd never hate her like they haterld the Calore. She opened her mouth to answer, but was cut by another voice.

"Are we to blame if lady Camille imposes herself upon us?" The figure coming from behind them was sided by two sentinels, and didn't make clear if the imposition was welcome.

Parthenope swallowed. She didn't want to see him, didn't want to talk with or about him in that moment. But she had no choice.

"Arnav, you may direct to your own room." Callum smiled. Arnav thought him too frilly, and above all, too dumb. He decided he didn't like him. "I will accompany lady Parthenope myself to hers."

He couldn't protest, nor could his sister. It was a dead end. He saw himself forced to mutter some "good night" to her and the prince, and continued with his path.

"It's very... Kind of you to dedicate me a moment of your busy schedule." She said, dryly, while they walked side by side.

"Parthie..." He started. " It's not what it looks like! I have no choice but to go off with my mother's favorite minion...!"

"I understand." She made a pause, and he almost breathed in, relieved, for a moment. "Do you call her a minion too, when you feed her off your spoon?"

"Parthenope!" He seemed surprised she spelled it out.

"Cal, spare us both. Your con fools no one anymore."

He pulled her hand, and tried too to pull her closer, maybe kiss her. She dodged him and untangled herself promptly.

"Why do you do this?" He seemed frustrated. She, on the door of her room, irritated.

"Because I'm no longer available for playdates. Look for me again once you decide I'm the only 'minion' you intend to entertain." She turned around to open her door. Didn't look at him. "Good night, your highness." And slammed the door on his face.

She didn't get to see anger deform the prince's features into something beast like about to explode, nor the metal splinters floating around him. Maybe it was best that way. Parthenope didn't want, after all, to see any side of him that wasn't very willing to intervene on her favour for the Queenstrial.


	9. Blood and colors

"Please, let us forget the pleasantries, yes?" She smiled, and poured whiskey on a shallow cup from the crystal container on the office cabinet. Officially it belonged to Kurt, but there was no such thing as "Kurt's", if it was his, it was hers, and vice versa. "You're here on business, Lord Samos, and me no less." And drank of the dark drink, without asking if he wanted it too or serving him. He was a grown up. He could serve himself if he wanted some.

"How could you know what am I here on, lady Camille?" He served himself, half the amount she did for herself. "Only that I thought it was best I spoke with you."

"Spare me your flattering, Leonard." She smiled behind the cup, a predator smile, with too many teeth to be friendly. "What do you want of me, a poor, humble servant of the crown?" Her voice didn't lack irony.

He ignored the question at first, and sat on one of the red cushioned chairs. Swirled the liquid within his cup, and took a sip, no hurry.  
"I want to know if you really intend to try for the crown. We haven't had a Calore queen in too many years, is it not true?" He left implicit he referred to the disgraced and late for long Seraphine Calore.

 _Calore_ , she thought to herself. _No, Seraphine wasn't a Calore. She was a Samos, a traitor of all her blood like the rest of the children of the steel_. Her expression went bitter, and she swallowed the rest of her whiskey at once.

"Yes, Leonard. I want the crown." She didn't smile. "It fails to hit me why does it interest you."

"Callum is my family, my blood. It always interests me who intends to bind oneself to him." He smiled as an answer, and Camille laughed, an unsettling sound to its way.

"Your blood you want to see spilled on Whitefire's marble floor."

"How can you sugget such a treason?!" He was a good actor, she granted him so. "Those who spill their own blood are cursed."

"Maybe. No one said you'd be the one to spill it, isn't that so?"

She got a grin from him, as grim as hers.

"Oh, that has its truth, Camille, I don't deny so."

"Very well, I propose, without further interruption, that wich you came to obtain from the start." _You know you need me, you obtuse primate, that's why you came at all_ , she thought. _You aren't that skilled in the art of conspiracy as you want everyone to believe_. "An alliance."

"And what does lady Camille's alliance imply?" He took another sip of his drink, calm and perfectly composed.

"Lord Samos intends to be King Leonard, is it not? Don't deny, you know it as much as I do."

"Procceed." He made a sign. "I'm interested."

"I will make you king." She sat on the big chair behind the table, her business posture flawless.

"How do you intend to?" He raised an eyebrow, incredulous.

"Trust me, Lord Samos." She smirked. "Give me some credit."

"Suppose I accept this bargain. That I accept lady Camille puts a crown on my head. What is owed to you for it?"

"Oh, you didn't let me finish." She laughed. "I wish to be queen. If I am to put a crown over your head, so shall you bestow me one. I cannot secure the crown without you, and you cannot get yours without me, else we wouldn't be here, would we? But keep in mind, in case you think of betraying me: I put you there. And I can tear you down just as easy."

"So this is it?"

"It is." She filled her cup once more and pulled out of a drawer a letter opener.

"What is that for?" He seemed amused.

"We swear over blood, do we not? We swear with blood then. Give me your hand." She put foward her own, and he put his there. With the opener, sharp, hovering over his index, she looked at him in the eye. "Swear. Swear by your blood and your colors. You will but a crown over my head and keep it there. You will make me queen."

"I swear, for my blood and my colors, I will put and maintain a crown over your head, and so, make you queen."

Camille cut his finger, and dripped the blood on the whiskey. She cut then her own, and repeated the gesture, the drops dissolved on the alcohol.

"I swear, for my blood and my colors, that I will make you king, put a crown on your head and power on your hands." And drank half the contents. She put the cup fowards, and he drank the rest, while she watched with eager eyes.

"One hell of a kingsmaker, is that how you want the history books to call you?" He smirked, and got up.

"I do not fear history books, Lord Samos." She answered, when he put his hand foward to open the door and leave. "I intend to write them."


	10. Cause and effect

Camille kicked the shoes out of her feet angrily. The door was locked behind her. No one needed to know she was pissed. Kurt was there, waiting. He read a book, sitting in one of the room's soft chairs. When Leonard showed the smallest intent to talk to her, she asked him to wait there. He would certainly want to see the result, taking that it affected him.

They were so close as to almost have the same books. Ironically, twenty in a hundred of his were romantic novels, and the same number of hers, thrill ones. The volume he read was the more than ancient 'The Prince'. Appropriate.

"How was it?" His tone suggested a friendly walk amongst the gardens.

"Leonard is a creature lacking in neuronal mass that thinks I need him to crown myself queen."

"Nothing new then." He turned a page.

"Nothing new, no." She sighed. "What do you read?" And threw herself on the bed, dress and all.

"The Prince."

"Machiavelli never gets old." She laughed an emotionless laugh, and got up. "Help me get off this thing."

Midway, she left the diadem she wore on the dressing table. She put herself in front of him, back turned, and he pulled down the zipper. She walked out of it, the piece of clothing abandoned in a pool of red and silver fabric.

"Go put something on." He frowned. She put on a sweater big enough to serve her as a dress.

"Stop pulling on my dick, Kurt." Camille threw herself on the bed once more. "Long story short. We agree to make Leonard Samos king, and he agrees to make and maintain me queen. Why are you flipping through pages of Machiavelli?"

"Looking for something that may be useful on the trial. They were running out of time to convoke it, even, it was being asked about since he was sixteen. Maybe for they have failed to convince him to pick a favorite. Maximus knows not of the danger he holds on his hands." He sighed.

"Maximus is the epitome of stupidity. His royal neck longs for a sharp knife."

"Soon. He ought to be buried in the Samos mausoleum as soon as this is all done. Maximus, Emmeline, Leonard, possibly Callum..." He turned a page, facing the paper with an icy glare. "All of them. Except for Eirian. She belongs to me and is of more use alive."

She grunted loudly. More than it would be considered proper to her in public. She didn't like the royal steel spawn. She was foolish, weak. Her world had little space for the weak, and usually the little space there was was under her heels or in death beds.

"And what belongs to me, Kurt?" She spat, the words tasting lile poison in her mouth. "Everyone has someone." And added bitterly "I've always considered myself such a lovely creature... Tell me, Kurtis, who belongs to me? When it's all said and done, who's going to pick up the pieces with me."

He stared at her, mouth half open, looking frozen. She felt defeated. He didn't have an answer, did he?

"Cam, I belong to you." He frowned, and got up to sit on the edge of the bed. "When it's all said and done, when you're alone under a crown of red gold, I'll be there. I'll always be there. Power is lonely, yes, but blood isn't water.

"Yes, Kurt, blood isn't water." She growled. "Continue with your dreams of marrying the daughter of steel that has you by the throat. Forget I said anything."

"If you have any solution, I'm all ears."

"Solution for what."

"Camille, I'm not a god, despite of what I want others to believe. I can put you on the throne, I can keep you there, I can stand beside you until the last moment, but there are limits to what I can provide. Tell me what you need." Stress was tangible between them, had them bickering with one another. He didn't get it, did he?

"I need a lot of things." She mumbled, sinking on the bed like the age she was. "I'll have to accept everything I don't want."

"For an end. We all make sacrifices." He closed his eyes.

"No one will make more sacrifices than I, Kurt." The truth in her words was irrefutable.

"There's still time to turn back. You don't need to do that, I won't force you, nor allow it's not in a way you want. You can pick someone, I will write the wedding contract mysel-"

"NO. No." She repeated, shaking her head. "Convince me. Convince me to continue." I wished, she thought, I wished I was a nobody.

"No one will remember me." He smiled not without melancholy. "They'll remember you. Generations in the future, children, years, /kings/, will remember you. Just you. The Calore queen who gave them birth."

"MAGNETRON CHILDREN OF MY SAMOS HUSBAND!" She would've cried, would've cried, but tears had burned before they fell.

"There's always the possibility they're burners. A small percentage inherits the mother's powers, although inside the court, these generally die before adult age due to 'mysterious circumstances'." He shrugged, sincere. She sighed and calmed, but not completely.

"Oh, fuck me gently with a chainsaw."  
He stopped and blinked a few times, then raised an eyebrow.

"...did you just say 'fuck me gently with a chainsaw'?!"

"Dear brother, your faith embarasses me." She sighed again. "You, trusting a miracle? I expected more of you. We're fated to failure, you know. There's no use for me in the throne of my son is a magnetron. It's not a Calore heir. The dynasty wouldn't return."

"Unfortunately, there's nothing we can do about th-..." Something crossed his mind. Whatever it was, he didn't like it one bit, and shook his head with a disgusted expression. "..-at."

"Kurt..." Her tone was incisive.

"No."

"Tell me." He shook his head. "Tell me! Kurtis Calder Calore, tell what you thought of before I decide your skin would give a beautiful coat!" She roared.

"There's a solution, okay?!" He huffed, unsettled. "But... No. No. It's bad. Gods, it's bad."

"WELL, TELL ME!" She was losing her nerve.  
He looked her in the eye and raised his eyebrows, a little past exasperated. She took little more than two seconds to understand.  
"Gods, to what point have we gotten." And sunk completely."Are we really considering _tha_ t?!"

"We ain't considering anything! I said it was a solution, not that I agreed with it." He shook his head while he spoke.

"Oh, gods, we're considering it." She groaned. "Until the last consequences, right?" She whispered to herself.

"Camille...!" He started, exasperated.

"It's the only way, isn't it?!" She sighed, he fought the words as much as he could.

"We don't have another nor someone else to execute it." He shook his head, looking down.

"Then so be it. We're planning to kill off the king, the queen, and at least another of their clan, besides executing a coup d'etat. Everything we're doing is illegal. What's another crime?" She didn't seem happy with the idea either, but much more resigned to it than he was.

"When did we become so incorrigible?" He flopped on the mattress.

"A few centuries ago, actually."

"Are you really willing to do this?" He sighed and got up to leave.

"To the last consequences, Kurt." She answered. "No matter how bad they are."


	11. A work over betrayal

"What do you want with me, Calore?" The brunette sat and put her feet heavily over the small table in amidst couches.

"A word only, lady Tyros." He didn't seem shook one bit for her reaction. Stachys raised her index and adjusted her sunglasses with the other hand, popping a bubble of gum.

"You have one. Only one."

The living quarters of her room had its curtains open, fully iluminated — and she hated it. It was vaguely orderly, seeing that it was a place she only spent the summer, but her abundant weapons brought from Archeon were laying against the walls, ready to be left around and compose the mined field that seemed to be the Tyros' natural habitat.

Kurt leaned back on the couch. So presumptuous.

"Alexis."

"What could you possibly want about her, Calore?" Stachys laughed. But didn't cuss him to leave. She wanted the answer. _Point_ , he thought.

"I want nothing about her, Tyros. — he raised an eyebrow. "You really don't know. Gods."

"Know what." She snarled, biting the gum with her front teeth. She hated not knowing things.

"Of lady Haven's new affair." He smirked.  
She, annoyed, pulled him, with little success, the other off the chair, and, too with little success, started shoving him towards the door. He was almost a wall.

"If you came here to gossip like a socialite with shit for brains about the girl who grew with me, you can leave this exact moment. I'm not interested in your discourse."

"Stachy, you could let me finish. I swear it's of your interest." She stopped shovind, but was still angry.

"What could you possibly say that would make me want to hear your blabbering?"

"Tyros, Alexis' new affair is Leonard."

She stopped completely, letting her jaw fall for a moment, without understanding it fully. She opened her mouth to answer and closed it a few times.

"You can't be right." She shook her head unconsciously, laughing in a nervous manner.

"You think not?"

"Alexis wouldn't do this to me." She supported her weight on the chair, she didn't feel her legs, was afraid to fall.

"She did."

"How do you know." She demanded.

"It's my job to know of the royal family's affairs. I know who comes and goes to and from where, Tyros, my job is to know." He showed on the mobile device what seemed to be a compilation of surveillance camera videos of Alexis and Leonard, of moments they met, of when she got into his office or he in her room. Stachys almost did fall.

"She didn't." Snarled the girl. "Did not, did not. She couldn't betray me like that. I wouldn't do it to her."

"But she did. And I thought you deserved to know." He put away the device.

"Yes, I did, didn't I? She never planned to win the Queenstrial, isn't it."

"I know not of what goes through lady Haven's mind."

"Leave." She pointed, shaky, to the door. He bowed slightly and opened the door to go.

"If you excuse me."

"And, Kurt." She sighed, little before the door shut. He stopped and peeked inside. "Thank you. At least someone here has neurons." She spat the last word. Alexis had signed up for an awful time.

"There are treasons none of us is capable to forgive." He shrugged and shut the door.  
Stachys Tyros was exactly where he wanted her to be.

When he got into the office, Camille was really to leave. She wore a black sequin dress, long, heavy, and a fur scarf. The jewelry she wore were big, sparkly. He just raised an eyebrow.

"What's the occasion?"

"We received invitations for the Summerton theater." Se tidied her hairdo. "I mean. I received. But you're going too."

"Who from?"

"The daughter of one of the richest men in East Archeon. It's the only reason we accept. But that's the matter, isn't it? She's barely an adult, doesn't know how to game with royalty. She's trying to begin. And I welcome her, but there's a lesson she must learn first." Camille straightened his collar. "We're a team. You can't play with one, only with both."

Inside the box, staring at the stage underneath, the girl fidgeted with her fingers of very well done nails. There were four seats there, though she were only to use two. Her security was outside, and when the curtains were pulled aside, lady Calore went in, announced by one of her guards.

Cantrix straightened up in her loose silver dress, and got up to welcome the noblewoman, but stopped and shrunk a bit when she saw hee brother come in right after. She swallowed dry, visibly nervous. Then recomposed herself and took a deep breath.

"My lady, my lord, it's a pleasure to see you accept my humble invitation." She bowed. The security closed the curtains. A small Calore comitive standed with them, although completely unnecessary. The twins were well known for their combat prowess. "Please, have a seat." And they did.

The theater went dark, and the play started. The actors went upstage. The three stared at the spectacle with empty eyes.

"Miss Lafontaine." Started Camille. "Altough we do appreciate the theater, we know this is not a futile arrangement. You have business to discuss with us, have you not?"

She opened her mouth to answer, and didn't shut it. Cantrix started at her brother apprehensively. Camille smiled in a soothing manner.

"Worry not, my brother is trustworthy. Whatever you have to tell me he will keep in confidentiality."

"My lady, he works for the king. Directly." She raised her eyebrows. The other one was more interested by the moment.

"I can still keep sigil on things that are unnofficial." He smiled.

"In other words, what the king doesn't know won't hurt him." Camille put her hand over hers. He wished, she laughed in her head. The girl wasn't very skilled in keeping secrets, but she too was young still. A regular girl at nineteen knew nothing of conspiracy.

"I need help." She said at last. "And I'm sure we could strengthen the Calore businesses even more in return. We'd be willing to do so."

"Certainly we gan get to a mutually beneficial agreement. What do you need help with?"

"With the king." She bit her lip.

"What king of help?"

"I want..." She took another breath in. "i want to be free of him! I don't want to see him ever again!"

"May you forgive us, but we don't understand." Kurt exchanged a glare with Camille. "Can you explain?"

She took another breath in and fidgeted again before managing an answer.

"Understand, my lord, I did none of this because I wanted to. Between my family, the businesses we own, everything that was built with decades of effort of my parents, everything would be at stake. Therefore, by his command, I am his mistress. For over a year."

Cantrix faced the nobles, that were in that moment having a silent conversation between them. Camille saw in her eyes the gleam of tears that wouldn't be shed no matter how much she wanted to. Kings taking younger mistresses was nothing new under the sun. Lords did so themselves. But generally it was more advantage than not for those women.

"I didn't mean to do anything about it." She turned her eyes back to the play. "However, a recent exam showed me news that come with little pleasure. I'm pregnant. Little over a month. And unhappily or not, I intend to keep it. But this child is mine. Not his. And I do not intend to concede." She raised her chin, lips pursed.

"How far are you willing to go, Cantrix Lafontaine?" Camille called.

"However far I have to."

"Do you trust us?" Kurt tapped at his arm impatiently.

"If I must."

"We'll be honest, Lafontaine." Her voice was rigid. "If you want to be rid of this... bother, we'll ask you to do dangerous things. Things that could take you to places like the Bowl of Bones. If you accept to work with us you can't change your mind, retreat or deny us. All or nothing, take it or leave it."

"I said anything, lady Camille. Death can't be worse than being with him."

"We have a deal then?"

"We do." She smiled.

They turned back, then, truly, their attention to the play. Beautiful fictions were a welcome distraction from the bloody reality they so willingly sowed. Crowns were always painted in blood and who thought otherwise was a fool.


	12. Functional matrixes

The cold afternoon echoed the desperate cry of a woman. As always, their parents were out on business trips and Kallai was Kallai. The rumor shouldn't leave the place, who talked would have their tongue cut. They didn't talk, but only where he couldn't hear it. The worse part, the one worth the rumors, was that who cried wasn't the red. Who cried was his sister, an audacity he might be willing to allow, but only because his bloodthist was to be fulfilled.

"You kniw the rules." He'd told the red. And she did. Don't meet with other people. Don't talk about it. Don't raise problems that can run around and scream their ilegitimacy. The true problem was that accepting those had never been her choice.

He'd opened the door without a sound. Lotte saw him first, but she was already resigned to her fate. Those who worked with silvers made enough to feed their families, but rarely lasted long enough to die of natural causes, and above all, those who wronged the will of one of them. Elisa had kept smiling and talking, and it had been so painful to see the expression die in her eyes as it was to see her lose her calm now.

She was kneeling on the cold, stained stone. A constant reminder of all that had happened in that place. Lotte didn't cry. She had a straight face on. Elisa had swollen eyes from the crying, she was held by Catrice, trying to no avail to stop her brother. She screamed like a wounded animal, and maybe she was so.

She had her wrists and ankles closed by chains, her knees scraped against the stone. Kallai was mad angry. She could see it in his eyes, in his restless hands, in his tense shoulders. He was beautiful, she admitted, but in the same way a scorpion is beautiful, with its shiny carapace and fast movement; nothing he did or said in sweet words would dissolve the aura of danger he carried, his prompt readiness to attack. He liked the attack. It was his natural state, battle. It didn't matter how good Elisa was, she would never beat her brother on a reasonably fair fight. He was war, he was death, he was pestilence, and Elisa was just Elisa.

Charlotte feared for whoever came to be his wife. Whoever it was, she hoped that was the blood, that it was famin, that it was smoke and bones, for only someone so truthfully harsh could survive all he was.

That wasn't a public execution. A lame excuse was all that was needed for him to kill whoever he wanted, therefore he did it, just to make clear: who ran the place was him and that she never dared touch what was his again

"Any last word?" He kneeled beside her, holding her face with one hand and some force.

"I hope hell is warm, that it burns your bones and makes your blood boil like molten silver, Kallai." She answered sweetly, looking him in the eye. She knew the other girl would forgive her for the lack of words of affection directed to her for she thought the same.

"Were you not already a dead woman I would kill you for that." He strenghtened the grip on her face and as a last offense, kissed her. She tried to bite him, but he was faster. "You little bastard." He laughed. "Check hell for me, yes?"

And at that, Lotte screamed. Elisa screamed along. Her pain was emotional, but Lotte's was burning, but not hot, never hot. The blood froze in her, clogged, and in no time, she wasn't screaming anymore, she couldn't. She was now a cold statue.

When there was no further chance of saving the red, he let go of her, and Elisa was let go of too. She cried over the frozen body. Denied and begged, above all, roared. The beast's hunger was satied, he recoiled. His sister was in two pieces from the loss, didn't want to believe the ice in front of her eyes.

But Kallai never looked back. No thief deserved his condolences.

Catrice stared hatefully at her parents, inside the ship.

The road trip from the Greatwoods palace to the Capital river had already been a torment. Elisa cried no more, was resigned in her grief. She didn't eat. Kallai seemed satisfied with himself on a disgusting level.

And their parents did nothing. If anything, Helenka was but a servant near her husband, and Catrice hated her for it. Ludano was no god, and Helenka was a Blonos, he could never kill her for it, so why did she abide? Her arrest was purely inside her head.  
It didn't matter, and she hated them all the same.

The boat traveling was equally torturing, she thought, snarling at her orange juice, until a hand on her shoulder stopped the youngest Gliacon's judgements.

"I have something to show you." Helenka smiled timidly, and fir the most she didn't feel like it, she couldn't refuse.

Her mother took her to the ship's office. Inside, she locked the door. Catrice was starting to grow curious, even though she'd never admit. What had her mother to show that was worth the lock?

A smal box was put in her hands, little bigger than a CD and thicker than a book.

"What is this." She raised an eyebrow.

"That is an excuse." Catrice resumed her snarling.

"Nothing you give me can compensate for-"

"I am not trying to compensate for anything." Helenka cut her in. "This is an excuse because that's not what I want to show. But if someone asks, it is." And then opened the drawer of the table, locked with an electronic pannel. Her daughter meant to reply, but waited, her curiosity teased.

She took papers from it and put them on the table. Catrice leaned over them.

"This is a marriage contract...!" She said, more to herself than anything else. "Whose-"

"Kallai." She smiled timidly once more. "I know the war machine that came out of me, Catrice, don't think I don't. Therefore, I personally chose his bride."

"This changes nothing!" She raged. Helenka laughed.

"Oh, it does, my dear. Changes everything. Monsters don't last in their ways, and Arven women don't bend, don't bow, don't break. His bride shall give us rest. In a lovely carapace. Dumali Arven's beauty is as commented as her skill."


	13. Prelude of chaos

Minerva though that was hilarious. Zach, not so much.

The Calore were sitting in front of them, the proposition hovering above both parts.

"You need us." Zach announced, savouring each syllabus. "What stops us from leaving this place and going directly to the king?"

"Very little, really." Kurt shrugged. "But we know how restraining were the Samos in the latest generations. We know how much they don't mind humilliating your House simply because they feel like it."

Zachary had his doubts. What made the Calore any different? They could ascend to the throne and ignore them as the others did now. Minerva on the other hand wanted concise and complete answers.

"What do you have to offer?"

"Two things." Camille replied. Safety on your contract with Seamus Welle and immunity to your kin. And a next Merandus queen."

"That's all very future." Zach raised an eyebrow.

"Calore pay their debts." _Be they of coin or of blood_ , Kurt completed to himself. "And have been favouring to the Merandus in the past. Train your daughters well and one of them will be queen, we can assure."

"There is only a huge flaw in that offer." Minerva interrupted. "Eirian is 'my kin'. And she's in the list of Samos to be subdued in that story."

They'd came to that meeting willing to accept the offer, the twins saw. They had little to no confidence on the Samos staying in power, and nobody could blame them. The king was inconsequential and impulsive, and his son was worse. The king's nephew had better claims, but he was a monster, and well known for it.

"Minerva, Eirian will be very much safe with a Calore ring on her finger." Camille sighed. Unhappily, keeping the little imbecile princess around and safe was unavoidable if she wanted the other's support.

"Good to know we have a deal." She got up, Zach still sat, staring at them for a long while. His sister's face, though, said she'd convince the other one as long as they were faithful to their agreement. "Come, come, Zachary. I still need to put on today's outfit." And pulled him after her.

"My subjects," Maximus Samos' voice sounded on the arena. "tonight is the last night we eat as rivals. We are all together in this place of tradition, and I honor you as you honor me. Today we ought to know, at last, wich noble daughters wish to dispose themselves to the crown and compete on the Queenstrial for the chance of commanding futurely our noble nation." He took Emmeline's hand in his, and so she replaced his voice with her own.

"Within the ambients dedicated to your Houses, there is a mechanism. Should you activate it, your banners will raise. Thus, we will know you wish to participate." It was very rare that a House wouldn't do it or that it had no participants to do so. May the announcement then commence!" Said the queen.

The first banner to raised was that of House Titanos, for an anxious Esme, that smiled like the Cheshire cat. Her mother, Sadira Laris, had a hand on her shoulder and smiled as well, proud of her daughter. Esme looked like she was about to have a stroke or something, from the much she jumped and bounced in her place, like a child that was just awarded dessert.

Cold as the ice she commanded, Elisa Gliacon activated hers as well. Minerva Merandus was next, laughing at the anxious faces of the other participants. Roslyn Viper then, and her brother stared right at Kurt, who looked away as if it wasn't with him. Ivayne Welle and Caritas Provos raised theirs at the same time. Alexis Haven, Margrethe Skonos, Stachys Tyros, an Eagrie girl, Dumali Arven, Parthenope Osanos, Laris, Lerolan, Nolle, Rhambos, Marinos... All of them, and at last there was only one left.

All Houses held their breath, staring at the last one.

Dante nodded at Camille, Sulpicia did the same. Kurt gave the Samos princess a side-look, and stared back at his sister. Kissed her hands, and, out of other people's eyes, put in them the black and red marble piece. There was no turning back. The choice was in her hands. But she couldn't retreat. Couldn't, couldn't. _If I look back I'm lost_.

When the Houses had sighed in relief, thinking of a Calore withdrawal, a last sound put itself in place, a deaf thud. Heads turned, and hopelessness and disappoint sounds could also be heard if you were listening hard enough.

They smiled as if they'd just won and not just announced their participation. Camille's smile contained more worry than it showed and she could barely breathe. The only thing that kept her standing was her brother's hands on her shoulders.

The black and red banner was set, and the Calore queen burned in her hand.


End file.
